The Bravest Person I Know
by HeadGirlInTraining
Summary: He could have stayed behind on a million life-threatening adventures that I’d been on. But instead, every time he could be, he was right by my side, all because he chose to be there. He’s the bravest person I know."


The Bravest Person I Know  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I wish I owned it, because then I'd be richer than the Queen of England. But I don't, so I'm not. If you sue me, you'll just get a bunch of CDs anyway.  
  
Author's notes: This takes place the summer after OotP. Harry has come to stay at the Burrow; Hermione isn't there. That's pretty much all you need to know. Oh, yeah, and review are the bomb dot com.  
  
There was a stillness about the day. Ron and I were sitting out by the pond near the Burrow, skipping rocks across the water. Or trying to skip them, as we weren't very good at it. There wasn't any wind, and the clouds were like puffy cotton balls set on a blue blanket sky. It was a good day, a clean day, if that makes any sense.  
  
Ron and I were talking about quidditch and how excited we were to get back to it in the new school year. We had figured on Katie being the new captain, and wondered if she would be as hard-nosed as Angelina. There was a short break in the conversation, in which Ron stopped smiling for a moment and looked out on the pond. He looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn't look at me and do it.  
  
Expecting the worst, that he was about to ask me about something that was going to be serious and potentially painful, I braced myself. He sighed, throwing another rock at the water. It sunk like a – well, like a rock. He finally seemed to have gotten his courage up. He had that look that screamed absolute resolution. It's one of those looks that won't be trifled with. Whatever he was about to ask or declare, no one could move him from it, not now. That's what happens when Ron Weasley makes up his mind about something; he's like an immovable object.  
  
He turned back to me, and I readied myself, expecting the worst. After one more steadying breath, he spoke. "Harry, I can't play quidditch next year."  
  
At first, I just blinked. I didn't quite know what to say, as that was just about the last thing I'd expected him to ever say. Ron Weasley not want to play quidditch? Was he mad? Had those brains turned him into an absolute nutter? And then, it hit me. He still didn't think he was good enough.  
  
I smiled at him, and said, "Ron, you git. Of course you're going to play quidditch next year. I really wish you'd get that stupid 'Weasley is our King' rubbish out of your brain. You led Gryffindor to the Cup, of course you're gonna-"  
  
"No Harry," he cut me off. His voice was calm and steady. "It's not because of that."  
  
I knew that I was looking at him like he was crazy, and the question popped out of my mouth before I even think about it. "So why is it?"  
  
He stopped looking at me and turned back to the water. He had to squint now because of the sun reflecting off of it. The light was almost blinding. He picked up another rock, chucking it as far as he could. We both watched as it landed in the water with a great plop, sending ripples all across the pond.  
  
He took another deep breath and finally answered my question. "It's Hermione."  
  
"What?" I asked. I couldn't figure out what in Merlin's name Hermione had to do with Ron playing quidditch.  
  
"You can't tell her that she's the reason I'm not playing. She'd have a fit." He seemed to be ignoring my question all together. Apparently, he'd been thinking on this for a while, and he wanted to get it out before he changed his mind. So I let him.  
  
"It's just-" he paused, seeming to have a hard time finding the words, or maybe working up the nerve to say them. His face made him look like he was fighting with himself. After a moment, it seemed either one side or the other had one, and he started again.  
  
"What if they attack when we're practicing?" He said, like it wasn't a question at all, like it was something that was more than a far off possibility. And we both knew it was. "What if we're flying around, and she's in the tower, and nobody's there...." He trailed off, but I knew that he was just on the edge of adding "to protect her."  
  
Ron ran an impatient hand through his hair. I could tell he was frustrated, trying to explain himself, and he was having a hard go of it. But the thing he didn't realize was that he didn't have to explain. Ron was never so good at expressing himself with words as he was with his actions, and I understood that. But Ron didn't, so he struggled to find the right thing to say, so that he could explain it all to himself.  
  
After a long silence, I was going to tell him I got it, that I wouldn't fight him on it. But as I was about to open my mouth, he spoke up.  
  
"I just can't let her get hurt, Harry. You can take care of yourself, I know that. You don't need anyone protecting you, and really, I know I'd just get in your way. We both would because you'd be trying to protect us." He let this out in a quick stream of words without taking a breath. He paused shortly, and then added, "But she almost died, and I can't let that happen again." He squinted again, but this time I didn't think it was because of the sun. I turned my head a little to the side so he could wipe his eyes without my seeing it.  
  
"Ok," I said. I knew there was no talking him out of it, anyway. That was the thing about Ron; when it came to his friends and their safety, he'd give up everything, and he'd do it without a second thought. I was always the one that people talked about, that everyone said was so brave and noble. But I was brave because I had to be. I was brave because if I wasn't brave, I'd be dead or worse. I was brave because it was my destiny.  
  
But Ron was brave because he chose to be. He could have dropped me as soon as things started getting scary, he could have stayed behind on a million life-threatening adventures that I'd been on. But instead, every time he could be, he was right by my side, all because he chose to be there. He's the bravest person I know.  
  
I wanted to tell him that, but I couldn't of course. Not now anyway, as we'd had about as much feelings-sharing as teenage boys are allowed in one go, and to overdo it would be embarrassing. Besides, there was something much more important to say.  
  
"I know why you really want to stay with Hermione, Ron." I paused long enough for him to look at me, and then I smiled. "I reckon you like her quite a bit to give up quidditch."  
  
He fought a smile, but it didn't work, and I knew I'd gotten to him. He punched me hard in the arm and mumbled "Shut up."  
  
"Ahh!" I exclaimed, throwing a celebratory fist into the air. I practically jumped up on to my feet and yelled, "I knew it!"  
  
He was shooting daggers at me with his eyes. "You total prat, if you say one word to Hermione, I swear no Death Eater will have a chance at your scrawny arse before I get to you."  
  
"You don't want Hermione to know, I take it?" I was on the edge of laughter, and it was getting hard to keep it in.  
  
Ron looked at me like I was the daftest bastard he'd ever seen in his life. "No, I really don't."  
  
We eyed each other for a moment, waiting for the other to make the first move.  
  
"Then you better catch me before I get to Hedwig," I said, breaking into a sprint as soon as the words spilled from my mouth.  
  
I could hear Ron behind me, and we both laughed as we ran back to the Burrow. 


End file.
